Second Chances
by sisypheandreamer
Summary: What happens when it's not just your second chance?
1. Chapter One: Judgment

CHAPTER ONE: JUDGMENT.

Death was not all it was cracked up to be.

"Well... this is an interesting case," said Minos, as a young man was brought before him.

The young man looked like he was in his early twenties, perhaps; he had sandy blonde hair and electric blue eyes. He had a athlete's build: broad shoulders and muscular arms. He would have been exceptionally handsome, if it weren't for the horrid scar on the side of his face. The young man's name was Luke Castellan.

Luke Castellan was standing before the Judgment Pavilion, silently awaiting his fate.

"Well boy? Present your argument, what do you think you have achieved?" asked Alighieri. Luke felt a cold chill up his spine, as though his human senses still managed.

That was a tricky question. What _had_ he achieved in his life? He had done many things, he almost changed the world, but for all the wrong reasons. He couldn't make that argument. How could he? He had listened to all the wrong words, made all the wrong choices and died for it. His eyes widened as he looked at the council deliberating him. Minos, Alighieri and (thank the gods) Disney, and gulped, trying to form a plea in his mind aside from "I died a hero," as a statement.

"I would like to be reborn. I mean, I know I made some pretty bad choices but I did the right thing in the end, didn't I?" he said, his tone confident but there was no denying the fear that quivered.

"He has a point," said Walt Disney kindly, looking over at the other judges.

"He's made more bad choices than right ones," retorted Dante.

"I say a hundred years in the Fields of Punishment, for his remorse, then give the kid what he wants," said Minos.

"This is a difficult case," said Dante, contemplating and analyzing Luke as he stared at the three of them.

Luke tried to keep calm, make his face unreadable and blank, but it was difficult. Looking and listening to the three judges, deciding on what to do with his fate, rebirth or Fields of Punishment. He wanted to defend himself but decided against it. You do _not_ want to show any sort of arrogance or disrespect to three people who could send you into eternal punishment.

"We shall discuss this in private, Luke Castellan. Wait here." The three judges then disappeared. A little melodramatic and overly theatrical if they asked Luke, but he couldn't complain.

Somehow his human senses were still capable. He could still feel his heart pound in his chest, his legs practically shaking in anticipation, or perhaps that was just his imagination. He remembered all of the terrible things he did. All of the lives lost, the young heroes who had reached the Underword before him, the damage he had done at Camp Half Blood... all because of him. Suddenly, it didn't seem to matter to him that he did the right thing in the end, he agreed with Minos. He need not have been before the three of them if he didn't make all the bad decisions he had made. It was difficult to stand still. He wanted to pace the floor, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do _something._

The council reappeared and he froze. Their expressions were unreadable, completely blank. There was no emotion behind their eyes.

"We have reached a decision," said Disney. "You will be given what you have asked for but not in a way in which you have expected."

"You have done terrible things in your first lifetime, things that deserve the Fields of Punishment," added Minos.

"But you have set things straight in the end. You will be given two choices on your rebirth, Luke Castellan. Choose wisely,"

"What are the choices?" he asked.

"Ten days and you will know the decision you will have to make. During the ten days, you will feel the remorse of everything you have done. Your audience has now been adjourned."

And with that, the judges all raised their right hands and snapped their fingers. Luke suddenly felt an immense pain, even more worse than the pain from the River Styx. So many faces flashed through his head, as though he felt every ounce of pain that he had ever inflicted. The floor vanished beneath him and the room just started spinning. He felt like skin was on fire and he could taste the blood on his mouth. The spinning and pain went all for what seemed like forever.

Then there was a thud. His body was on what felt like sand and soil. The fragrance of flowers was overwhelming and the sunlight managed to squeeze through his eyes. He couldn't see straight or even move for that matter. All that was coursing through his mind was the insurmountable pain and an unfamiliar female figure looking down on him.

**A/N: **yeah, not my best. XD I didn't really think the beginning through. I just have the middle and ending completely figured out. The beginning is really choppy. Read and Review if you're awesome which you are! :)


	2. Chapter Two: Rest

CHAPTER TWO: REST.

Pain.

Imagine the Fields of Punishment, the epitome of your worst nightmares, come true. Imagine millions of needles piercing through your skin simultaneously while you were dipped in boiling lava, all the while flaming metal plates were being attached to your skin. Multiply that pain by a hundred and it still wasn't close enough to the pain Luke felt.

As if the physical pain wasn't enough punishment for him, he was blinded as well. Not the kind of blindness that he couldn't see anything, how he wished he couldn't see anything. He was blinded by hundreds of thousands of faces. The last look in their eyes before they fell in battle, the people who loved them and how it was he who caused their lives to end on such short notice. Luke saw his poor mother and how he understood now on why she acted so deliriously. How he wished he had understood sooner.

Remorse.

The faces of his friends that he had hurt so badly. Thalia, how he betrayed her in every literal sense of the word. Annabeth, how he broke his promise to the one girl he may have even loved, the one girl who never lost faith in him, how he mercilessly gave her the weight of the sky and very nearly killed her on more than one occasion. Hermes, his father, how he openly expressed sheer hatred for his father and nearly destroyed the world just because of it. He had hurt, destroyed so many people.

He didn't use to be evil. He didn't use to be bitter. He was a nice guy, people actually liked him. When he was very young, he didn't have many friends because he was... well... different and so was his mother and so was his home. People made fun of him back then but that all changed when he ran away and met Thalia, someone who could see what he could see and understood what it was like. He was happy, as happy as a runaway kid could be. Then he met Annabeth and then he really started to feel like he was part of a family. Things were so simple. They moved around from place to place, battling monsters and answering to no one. Then they lost Thalia for a time and he knew he was to blame. The meeting with Hermes didn't leave Luke in kind spirits.

Everything got a little better when he and Annabeth got to camp. They made new friends and learned that they actually had siblings. They trained and ate and were happy for a time. Then he got the quest from his father to steal the golden apples at the Garden of the Hesperides, where he earned his scar. After a quiet little celebration, that was it? Luke wanted a greater glory and his mind swirled with visions of it when Kronos started speaking to him. He shouldn't have listened.

He turned spiteful. Vengeful. Arrogant. Merciless. Everything he never wanted to be.

He thrashed around as he lied down on what felt like a soft bed, though he didn't have the brain capacity to wonder why and how he got there. All he knew was that the physical pain wasn't going away and his mind was being driven insane by all the visions in his head. He knew he was screaming and he knew he was walloping around, even if it hurt him to move even by the slightest bit. There was someone else there, someone he didn't know, trying to calm him down but he just couldn't see or feel anything or anyone.

He did that for what seemed like forever, a few hours, a few days maybe? Was this what the judges meant? Ten days of suffering then he'll be reborn? If he thought logically, that was a small price to pay. He couldn't imagine this kind of torture for the rest of eternity, or even another second of it. Every second of the torment, he felt like he was going to go insane at one point or another. Any second now, he knew he was going to lose his sanity.

He wasn't capable of reasonable thinking, he wasn't able to decipher on how long it has been, all he knew was that he wanted it to stop.

Slowly, very slowly, the pain was starting to go away. He was starting to calm down. Little by little, he was starting to feel again. He was starting to regain control of his fingers, the visions were starting to dim down and could actually see the light. The person caring for him noticed this and took the initiative to make the best of it.

He couldn't make her out exactly, but he could hear her calm, soothing words as she gently fed him some kind of liquid that tasted like chocolate, only better. Nectar. The pain was starting to dim down and he could breathe again, as the girl fed him. His eyelids fluttered, trying to see where he was and who was looking after him, but he felt two gentle fingers close his eyes.

"Shh, no. Rest. You are safe here," said the girl. And so he did. The pain and the visions melted out of his system enough that he was actually able to sleep. A dreamless sleep, he hasn't had a peaceful rest in years, it seemed so surreal.

He didn't know how long he was asleep and he didn't really care. He woke up with an aftershock of the pain from before. His body was sore all over, but at least he could move. His skin was pinkish, like what it looked like after he had been burned and he knew all too well what that felt like. He sat up, marveled at the fact that he could do that and rubbed his eyes.

He was in a room of which he did not know. He was dressed in white: a white cotton shirt and white drawstring pants. He was lying on a bed of white linen and a sword was hanging on the side of the headboard. He held the hilt of it and examined it. It was the sword he used to use before Backbiter, before he went over. Celestrial bronze. Well balanced. He didn't stop to ask why it was there in the first place, he just knew he needed to find out where he was.

The room was a kind of cave and he had been in a lot of caves, this one was particularly... nice. White, purple and green crystals decorated the ceilings. The walls were separated by white silk curtains. There was a large harp on one side of the room and a fireplace was built into the cave wall while a large pot hovered above it and it carried the smell of beef stew all over. Against another wall was a shelf of dried fruit preserves while herbs dangled from the ceilings. It was a peaceful little place and so with that, Luke got defensive.

He had lived in his world long enough to know that the nicest of places are often the kind of places you would get killed. His bare feet touched the freezing cold floor, it was freezing cold to his bare skin at least. He turned and found a polished bronze mirror and his eyes widened at what he saw.

His eyes were bloodshot, as though he had been crying, which wasn't all that surprising. His skin was pinkish all over but other than that, he looked rather fine for someone who was just tortured for what seemed like days. He found himself staring at his own reflection, not admiringly, but curiously. His own blue eyes stared back at him and he realized that that was the first time he had seen himself as himself in a very long time.

He took a few steps forward as practice. It was difficult, seeing that he was very weak, sore and tired, but he managed. With his sword still in his hand, we walked out of the cave. Outside was a green meadow. The daylight was shining over the greenery and it looked like a lonely paradise. On the left, stood a few cedar trees and on the right was a large beautiful flower garden where there were four stone satyrs with water shooting out of their stone pipes. Straight ahead, the greenery led to a small rocky beach, the water gently touched over the stones.

The only other person on the island was a girl, tending to her garden. Even from a short distance and with slightly blurry vision, Luke could tell that she was beautiful. She had soft caramel colored hair which was braided to the side. She looked like she was around sixteen? He couldn't tell, she just looked... timeless. She wore a white Greek dress as she worked and didn't seem to notice him. He didn't know who she was and as far as he knew, almost all the unknown beautiful girls in the world killed men. He gripped his sword harder.

He walked silently toward her and she was still tending to her garden, humming and it seemed like the flowers swayed along with her tone. It was a little hard to believe that the girl was anything but good but he had seen too many beautiful girls seem like what they're supposed to seem to know better. He got closer and closer, every step causing the muscles in his legs pain but his stealth was broken when he lost his balance a little, slipped and groaned at the pain. She turned and he raised his sword as a force of habit.

The blade had severed a few ends of her hair as she turned but she didn't seem to mind. It was that or she didn't notice. Her eyes widened at the blade and then looked at him sympathetically, not uttering a single word. She was stunning. From her almond eyes to her soft lips, she embodied beauty... and that frightened him even more, but he didn't dare show it. His eyes were blazing and he looked deep into her eyes, the blade of the sword only centimeters from her throat.

"Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?" he demanded.

Without fear or hesitation, the girl raised her hand and used two fingers to brush the blade aside. She looked kindly into his eyes, as though she was trying to convince him that there was nothing to scared of.

"There is no need for this," she said, as she gently pushed the sword aside. "I am not your enemy, Brave One. No one will hurt you here. I am Calypso."

He tried to remember who she was because he was certain he had heard of her before only he couldn't quite remember it. "You're Atlas's daughter?"

She nodded. "Yes. As to where you are, you are in my island. Ogygia. As to what you are doing here, I do not have the slightest idea. You fell from the sky and landed on my shores."

She pointed at the rocky beach and as he turned his head, he fell on his knees. She took the sword from his hands and for a moment, he thought she was going to do what he almost did. But instead, she put it aside and took his arm and put it over her shoulders and helped him get up. She practically carried him back to the cave, she was very gentle. She apologized every few seconds, out of fear that he may be in pain or something of that sort. She whispered soothing, encouraging words and soon after, he felt himself lying on the bed again. Something cold, what felt like a moist towelette, was damped on his head and nectar dribbled on his lips.

Her fingers brushed through his hair as she closed his eyes and whispered.

"Rest. You have been through much."

**A/N. **TOMU STFU HE IS NOT A VAMPIRE. XD This is still considered as the beginning so it's still choppy. Hope you like it! :)


	3. Chapter Three: Dreams

CHAPTER THREE: DREAMS

Luke couldn't remember when was the last time he slept so peacefully. No nightmares came to haunt him and no dreams to tell him what he was missing. Just sleep. The act of resting and healing, the way it's supposed to be. He wasn't escaping from anything or anticipating for anything to happen the next day or having to sleep with one eye open with fear that someone might ambush him.

He woke up slowly, the pain was almost completely gone and he couldn't even see any more faces. He didn't open his eyes immediately, but just laid there with his eyes closed. He heard humming from the same female voice he's heard before. Calypso. She was still there and she hadn't done anything to him... at least not yet.

He had to admit, he found it extremely difficult to mistrust her. She just seemed so genuine and sincere, he had never met anyone quite like her before. He felt her gentle fingers brush hair off his forehead and a cloth brushed over his skin. The cloth was cold, but comfortably so. He could hear her singing and somehow, her music sunk into his system and melted all the pain away. Which only led him to question why he was there in the first place. He wasn't in Elysium and he wasn't reborn.

He knew who he was, he remembered everything and was it supposed to go like that? He didn't understand. He had so many questions.

He flexed his arms and shoulder around and he felt her hands leave him. He groaned as he found it difficult to sit up. He was still sore but not as much as before. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was in the same room as he was in when he first woke up. Calypso was sitting on a small wooden stool next to the bed, and beside her was a small table with a basin of cold water and a bowl of nectar with a silver spoon dwindling on the side. She was sitting with her hands on top of her lap and she was still in her white dress, or maybe she just had a closet full of them, with her hair still in the soft braid. She was still so beautiful and her eyes expressed nothing but concern, although she looked like she had been crying.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, forcing a smile.

"Yeah, which is kind of shocking," he said as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"More like relieving,"

"How so?"

"You didn't scream or yell or even mumble this time,"

"I... I did that?" he asked in disbelief.

"More than that, actually. To be honest, it was like you were being possessed," she said kindly, trying not to laugh as she rubbed her arms. It was only then that he noticed her arms. Apart from everything else about her, her arms would have been lovely if it wasn't covered in small bruises. They looked a few days old but they were still there.

"Did I... Did I d-,"

"It's fine," she said, cutting him off. "You were sleeping, it was nothing."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-,"

"I know. That's why it's fine." With that, she clapped her hands twice floating plates and bowls and other utensils started appearing out of nowhere, all filled with food. "You must be hungry. Eat, drink, regain your strength."

Luke didn't need to be told twice. He didn't even realize that he was starving until she made the food appear. He was still trying to figure her out, though. He didn't know anything about her except that she was a daughter of Atlas. He knew there were stories about her, only he couldn't exactly remember which ones. But he ate the food almost as soon as he was presented with it, she merely watched, like she was glad to just have company.

"How long have I been here?" he asked in between bites.

"Time is never truly determined here. I honestly don't know,"

"Is there anyone else here?"

"No. Only you and me," She grew a small blush with those words and he felt like he did too.

"How old are you?" She laughed, a constrained laugh, as though she was trying not to embarrass him with her laughter.

"Heroes. I didn't know they have lost their manners. Don't you know it's impolite to ask a girl her age?"

He managed a chuckle and a smirk, relieved to discover that the small distort of his facial muscles did not lead to any pain. "Touch_é_ ."

"To honestly answer that," - she started - "is impossible. I don't know how old I am. Time is-"

"Difficult here." He finished.

He ate in silence, fully aware that Calypso was still in the room. She was still as a statue; she didn't move... all but her eyes. Her eyes wandered all over the room. Without him knowing, she'd watch him eat and move about, watching for any sign of discomfort. Actually, she was watching for the sake of watching; memorizing him as best she could so that her memory of him would not falter nor would she need to resort to her imagination. He would remain instilled as he was in her head just as he was right then.

Her watchful eye didn't make him feel awkward for some reason. He was somewhat... relieved to know someone was there. She wasn't waiting for him to finish or making him do anything else, she was just there for the sake of being there. For him. He hadn't known such concern and company for what seemed like the longest time.

Back in the days of when Kronos controlled him, his days were filled with chaos, darkness and evil. Nothing filled his mind other than hate, death and spite. Being in Ogygia was something that felt strangely familiar and yet new to him all at the same time. Calypso's presence was something that felt both old and new, like a memory from a dream.

His had two servings of whatever it was that she had served him, it was some kind of stew, and he made a mess of himself. His body ached with every movement and his arm jerked out of the pain every now and then which caused his food to just spill all over himself. He felt like a child again. Only this time, there was someone attentive who was looking out for him.

Calypso didn't feed him nor did she offer to do so. She merely let him eat by himself, testing his strength and fighting the urge not to take the spoon from his hands and just pamper him for all he's worth. Instead, she waited until he was finished. The white linen on the bed and his white cotton shirt now had brown stains all over and water was splotched at strategic spots, making him look like a toddler who had just finished his first independent feeding.

He looked embarrassed and distraught at the mess he had caused and Calypso could only smile despite herself. He wanted to do something. Look away, hide somewhere and regain some of his remaining dignity; but, he was much too sore.

Calypso was nothing if not gentle. She removed the white sheets and blankets that he had soiled with the stew. She ducked and got some fresh new sheets and blankets from under the bed and tucked him in. If he ever felt babied by her care before, it was nothing compared to what she was doing now.

She smiled as she got a damp white cloth hanging beside his bed. She gingerly dabbed his face with the cloth, cleaning the mess that he made. His eyes were locked with hers. He couldn't look away. Her eyes sparkled like starlight and were a warm, rich hazelnut brown. The cloth was cool and he felt relaxed at every gentle stroke. She was humming while she worked and he could have sworn that he felt better with every note.

"So... what did you just feed me?" he asked, breaking the silence (on his part, at least).

"Hmm?" She was caught up in her song that it took a few moments for her to comprehend what he just said. "Oh. Beef stew. It's... kind of a specialty of mine."

"Are there any uh -" he grasped for a better word - "side effects?"

She chuckled. "No. It's just ordinary beef stew. Fresh from the hearth."

Silence filled the room once more, all but Calypso's soft humming. After a few minutes, Luke felt a lot better. He was well fed, well cared for and the after-burn sensation that had been causing him pain in ever crevice of his body had gone away. He was dirty though and it felt rather uncomfortable.

"Do you feel well enough to stand?" she asked.

"I think so." He tried propping himself up on his elbows. A little painful, but not unbearable.

She took his arm, put it around her shoulders and helped him stand up. He could stand and walk but he couldn't do so without wincing. He was better, though. He wasn't crying out in pain at every move. She led him to a small opening next to where he was laying. Inside was a giant opening filled with what looked like hot water. Her hands moved with dexterity. She was slowly removing his shirt from the back, all the while keeping him balanced. He looked at her as she worked and he saw that there was no malice in her eyes. Just sincerity and determination.

It took her a while, as though she was trying to make sure that whatever she did was to his comfort. He wanted to stop her, to tell her "no, it's fine. I can do it myself." But he didn't. He feared that he was becoming too accustomed to being pampered but it wasn't just that that had him still. He... liked it. He didn't know what he liked exactly, but he knew he liked it.

"Keep your bottoms on," she started. "Lay in the water for a while. It always helps. There's a towel and some dry clothes over there."

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at the opening on the floor.

"I believe you call it a _hot tub_."

His eyes widened. "A hot tub. In the middle of a phantom island. Okay."

He got in the so-called hot tub carefully. He found it extremely odd but he welcomed it. The water made him feel immensely well almost instantaneously. He allowed for his whole being to be entirely submerged in the warm water. He resurfaced with newly found strength. The hot water was amazing. His eyes were beginning to close, soaking in the wonderful feeling of warmth, when he realized that Calypso was walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"My garden. It needs attending to."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"You're not supposed to do anything, my renewed one. Just rest and regain your strength until you're ready to leave."

"Is that why I'm soaking in magical waters?"

Calypso laughed. Her laughter filled the entire room. She was adorable when she laughed. "It's just hot water, Luke. Honestly, not everything that helps you requires divine intervention. Sometimes the simplest things are the ones that make everything better."

And with that, she left. Luke allowed his mind to wander, his body to float and his eyes to close. And for the second time since he was on her island, he was lulled into peaceful slumber. Dreams did not visit his mind, nor did any nightmares. Just peace. And it was a habit he'd gladly be accustomed to.

**A/N:**So guess who got around to working on this again. Bahaha. I've been really busy with uni and stuff so yeah. But I'll try to finish ASAP. Pfft. This chapter was soooo not my best. I'm rusty, sue me. I promise, it's gonna get reaaaal good after this. ;D


	4. Chapter Four: Home

**A/N: **Wowza! It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry but university and consistently maintaining Dean's Lister status while being active in a plethora of extracurricular activities is rather tiring and time consuming! But don't think I forgot about this! I still have the outline and I don't forget my plotlines. I'll try to update regularly but if ever I forget, bug me on my tumblr and make me finish my stories! Hee. :3 .com

I'm glad you like the story. Please don't be shy and give me some comments or suggestions!

CHAPTER FOUR: HOME

He floated.

He floated for what felt like hours on end. The water, although contained no magical properties, seemed to be soaking up all of the pain away from his muscles and skin. He had never felt so calm and peaceful before. He had been running all of his life and it's done nothing except make him stressed, tired and paranoid. His mother was insane and he ran away from her, the camp disappointed him and he wanted to make a name for himself so he ran away from them as well; but, when he really wanted to run away from all of the bad things he had done for Kronos, he couldn't. All the times he should have run away, he didn't and couldn't. But as he floated in the water, there was a warmth streaming its way to where he lay, he was at peace. He didn't want to run.

He just wanted to float there and stare at the white ceiling, encrusted with precious jewels and various plants with beautiful blooms that hung from the ceiling in cracks with no beginning.

Moments passed, the skin on his hands and fingers had crumpled and he decided to stand. He got up from the water and dried himself with the towel that was provided nearby. There were also undergarments, drawstring pants and a shirt that were all cotton and were all white. He put them on and they were comfortably loose around him. A tall mirror was attached to the wall where the clothes were hung and he took a moment to take in what he looked like.

There was a huge difference in his appearance from when he first looked in the mirror. Luke expected himself to be covered in bruises or battle scars but he found that he was perfect. He didn't think that he was perfect in a narcissistic sense but perfect in a way that he was unharmed, like he hadn't just fought and lost a war while being controlled by an evil Titan, like he hadn't just been judged in the Underworld, like he hadn't been tortured for what seemed like forever. His golden hair was longer than it was but not long enough to bother him, his blue eyes stared back at him – no longer bloodshot, just the regular blue. He stared at his reflection for the longest time. He was fine, he was perfect… but there was something wrong, something amiss. And that's when he saw it. He was perfect and unblemished.

The scar across his face was gone.

He didn't know why he didn't notice it for so long. He wasn't used to having such a clean face for he had had that scar for a long time and he was unaccustomed to seeing himself without it. He touched his face to feel his scar-less skin and was baffled at what was going on. What was happening to him? What happened to him? What was going on? The pain from his body had completely subsided and every evidence of injury he had ever had had been wiped away from his entire body, as if he never had them. He stroked his face absentmindedly and then ran his fingers through his hair. He was confused and he had questions. And there was only one person he thought could answer them.

He left the room and saw that the bed he had slept in was completely made. The pillows were fluffed the blanket was laid out – inviting him. He rubbed the nape of his neck and looked around curiously. He had never really seen the interior of the cave before. He had only been looking at her. What was her name again? Callisto? No. Calypso? Yes. Her image popped came into his head and he knew it was her. Where was she? She wasn't inside the cave and the cave wasn't exactly that large for there to be many rooms. What had she said before leaving him to float in the water?

_"Where are you going?"_

_"My garden. It needs attending to."_

Her garden. Right. He looked for his sword which hung by the headboard of the bed in which he slept in. He took it in his hand and the blade felt home in his hands. He ventured out of the cave slowly - his sword at hand, his steps: silent and wary. He was on the defence, still not keen on letting his guard down even if the island was the most tranquil place he had ever known.

He stepped out of the cave and looked around. He saw nothing but the greenery, the blooms and the sea. No sign of Calypso. He lowered in hands a bit in confusion until he heard a soft sound from behind. Instinctually, he turned at a mercurial speed and threw whatever it was behind him against a wall and the sword dangling dangerously close at its throat. Of course, it was Calypso.

Her breath hitched and he saw her swallow. Her big brown eyes widened as she stared deep into his eyes, her hands at her sides with no intent to defend herself. He had not moved, his hand still on her shoulder – pining her to the wall of the cave, the other hand holding on to the sword mere inches away from her throat. He took a few shallow breaths and neither of them moved for a while. They just stared at each other.

A moment passed and she averted her gaze from him and looked at the sword then back at him. She lifted her hand and pushed the blade away with her dainty fingers. He lowered his arms and put them at his side. He wanted to apologize but he couldn't find the words. Or he had forgotten how to apologize. She looked into his eyes again and he didn't look away. Her lips parted and her fingers reached up to touch his face. There was a certain electricity, a certain warmth to her touch. He felt her palm against his cheek and she stroked his face with her little thumb. She was so warm and so soft. She was careful and each stroke felt wonderful, as if she were massaging his face. He felt as if he was petrified. He couldn't move and he didn't want to. His breath caught in his throat and she just touched his face – the side of his face that was scarred before.

"You are well now." She didn't mean it as a question and it didn't seem like she was talking to him. She was simply stating a fact. He saw her face grow red and she lowered her hand. She reached out to his hand that was carrying the sword and put her hand on top of his. "Please do not do that again. You are in my home and in my care. It would show proper gratitude if you were not to try and decapitate your hostess."

He griped the handle and he thought he murmured an apology. "Kindly put it away," she ordered but not authoritatively. It wasn't a question but it wasn't a request, either. He went back inside the cave and put his sword back where he found it. He walked back outside the cave but saw that she was no longer there. Everything was silent albeit for the soothing splashes the waves made against the rocks. The sky was a perfect shade of blue but there was no sun to say on what time of day it was. He walked around, his feet feeling the warmth and softness of the soil beneath him. He was amidst a sea of flowers of different kinds and everything he saw was beautiful; including the girl on the far end, admiring the flowers just as he was.

She was just as lovely as he had remembered her. Her hair was no longer in a full braid but there were two small braids at either side of her face and the two braids wrapped around her hand and joined at the back to make one thin braid. The rest of her long, wavy, dark brown hair fluttered all the way down to her waist. There were small flowers adorning her hair but whether she put them there or she didn't, he did not know nor care. Her white dress that reached up to her knee, along with her hair danced as the wind carried it. She looked as lovely as a dream and when she looked at him, she smiled. He saw a certain sadness in her brown eyes but she smiled despite it. He walked towards her and looked to the scene she was seeing. The abundance of flowers in such a small space really was breathtaking. It made it seem like the little island was larger than it was.

"Did you plant all these?" he asked without looking at her. She breathed a small sound which he took as a yes. "With no help at all?"

"Sometimes, a visitor would help with the garden but then they would leave and I would need to finish what they started."

"I can't imagine leaving such a place." And with his words, he heard her chuckle. It wasn't a light chuckle but there was a certain sour note to it. "Can I help you with your garden?"

He looked at her then and she closed her eyes and smiled, turning her head away. "You certainly can but you may not." He gave a short laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "May I, then?"

She waved her hand and tilted her head to the side to gesture to her garden. She said nothing but her smile said it all.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or why he was doing anything at all. She had been so good to him, so kind and so lovely. When she looked at him, it was as though she saw him and only him. She cared for no one else and wanted nothing from him. She only wanted him to be well. She took care of him, sheltered him, fed him, put up with him, as no one had cared for him like she had. He felt like he needed to repay her for her kindness somehow and since she looked like she was attached to her garden, it was the only way. He was careful not to tread on anything and he found himself inside a small clearing of bright green grass. She followed after him and he could feel her watching him. He wanted to help, he did. But he didn't have the slightest idea how. He was a son of the god of thieves, not gardeners.

He sat down near some bright yellow blooms and looked at it intently. He just stared at the flower, uncertain of what to do. She found her way next to him, kneeling down and took a single bloom in her hand. Her head bend over to inhale its scent and her hair fell to her face. She knelt back up and looked at him. She pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him.

"It helps if you talk to them."

"Talk? To flowers?" She nodded once and a corner of her lips curved. He looked back at the flowers and raised his eyebrows. He thought himself insane for even considering it. _I must be out of my mind_ he thought, as he bent over and took a bloom in his hand.

"You're lucky you have someone so lovely to look after you," he whispered and he smiled despite himself. He turned his head and he saw her ducking her head, but he knew she was smiling. He knew because he meant what he said and he knew that it was just the sort of thing someone like her would smile at.

"Thank you," she said without looking up. He backed away and sat next to her for a while. She lifted her head and looked at him for a while and then looked away. He laid down on the grass and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh clean air mixed with the intoxicating aroma of the flowers around him. He heard her shift her weight and he opened his eyes to see her laying down beside him. Her hands were at her sides and they were almost touching his. Almost. He didn't know what it was in him but his fingers twitched and touched her only for a second. Then she moved her hand away completely and she pressed both of her hands to her chest.

She turned her body to face him and he did the same. They stared at each other for a long second, taking each other in. He didn't know why but he wanted to touch her face, just to see if she was real and not just some good dream. And he did. He was wary, slow and careful. He did not want her to move away again but she made no move and just looked into his eyes. His fingers brushed her cheek and soon he was stroking her face just as she was only moments ago. How long has it been since then? Minutes? Hours? He did not know nor did he care.

Every pain he had ever felt melted away. His heart swelled and everything was just warm and peaceful. Everything was right, especially when he touched her. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes then and looked down. Her eyes were gleaming, as if she was about to cry. He pulled his hand back, afraid that he had offended her when that was not his intention. He had no intention of harming her ever again.

"Are you alri-" She cut him off by sitting back up and looking at the distance of her garden.

"Do you feel well enough? Are you fully healed?" she asked, not looking at him, her tone monotonous. He sat back up and looked at her, confused.

"Yeah. I'm fine now. Did I do something… ?" She didn't answer and remained quiet for a long time until she finally stood u. She crossed and rubbed her arms as if she were cold but the breezes were comfortably warm.

"You should be ready to go soon." Another fact that she said to no one in particular.

"Go where?"

"Go home."


	5. Chapter Five: Impossible

CHAPTER FIVE: IMPOSSIBLE

Home?

Luke had never thought of home as an actual place.

He had been running for almost all of his life and yet he had never had a home, a place where he truly belonged. When he was but a boy, he was trapped in the care of some mad woman. He never had friends, he was different. He could see things no other kids could. He could do things no one else could. He was lost and there was no one to guide him on his way. His father was never there. His mother wasn't really there. No one cared and that wasn't home.

He thought he found a home in Thalia and Annabeth. His time with them made him feel welcome. The three of them, the two girls who understood him and were like him, they were his only family. They fought and they travelled, but even then, Luke was never home. A life running with two people who just knew what it was like was all he was living for? No, there had to be something else. He knew there was something else, something better, for a life running wasn't home.

Camp seemed like home for a while. He had an actual sense of purpose at camp. But it still wasn't enough for him. All the training and fighting for meagre battles and wars, all of which that were fought by different heroes before? Luke was a thief but he knew he was better than stealing someone else's glory. He wanted his own, he wanted to be recognized as himself, he wanted his own legacy. Camp wasn't home.

When Calypso said for him to go home, his life flashed before his eyes. His childhood, his adolescence, his dreams of Kronos and glory, the wars that he had spurned himself, the enemies made and the alliances he formed – all of which to satisfy his own need for a greater glory for himself. A greater glory of people bowing at his feet, marvelling at his accomplishments and wanting to be like him – that's where he thought he would be home. For years, that was all that crossed his mind and that was what he wanted. He wanted to be Luke Castellan, the one who overpowered the gods. He wanted to be Luke Castellan, greatest warrior ever known. He wanted to be Luke Castellan, the one who lived a life worth living. He wanted glory and power and he stopped at nothing to get it. At the time, he felt that the means justified the ends. The lives lost were lives that would be counted as lives that needed to be sacrificed in order to achieve a better world – a world he built in his design and under his rule.

By a little word that a beautiful girl uttered, probably meaning no harm by it – Luke's entire world, entire life, crashed down on him like a landslide. He was building a world in hatred towards his father, an emptiness inside that nothing could fill, a loathing towards those who had what he wanted and a merciless outlook on everyone who was not him and was not for him. All the lives lost, all the broken souls, all the pain felt and all the anguished cries.

All of the fire he felt before came back but haunted him in a place that was not his physical shell. Fire was drilling his memories, burning into everything that he's done. He had destroyed nearly everything and everyone who never harmed him, who were trying to stop him from harming anyone else.

"Have I said something?" he heard her say but he could not see her. All he saw was the death and destruction. All he saw was the pain he had inflicted, the demolition he had caused, and it was all him. He remembered everything in perfect detail and he couldn't take it.

His eyes dilated and he started taking long deep breaths. The entire island of Ogygia vanished from sight and all he could see was fire and blood in his head. Blood on his hands and fire in his eyes – he could see the fear in the eyes of people before he destroyed him. He sunk down on his knees, eyes still open. Everything was coming into full view and he couldn't bear it. It was too much, it was all too much.

Calypso was by his side in an instant, he felt her arm around him, and she started whispering soft apologies and sweet nothings. Things he didn't deserve to hear, after everything he's done. He tried pushing her away, threatening her – just to make her go away before he hurt her like he hurt everyone else. She didn't let go, she didn't leave and she just stayed, trying to keep him steady and sane. He screamed and thrashed around, fully aware and awake of everything – but she would not move. She was still holding him, trying to calm him, soothing him with her words. She didn't want anything from him, she only wanted to help him.

He stopped trying to struggle against her and he just stopped moving. Calypso anchored his weight on her and she led him inside the castle to the bed. She helped him lay down and was about to leave when Luke grabbed her hand. He said nothing and as did she; but, the look in his eyes said everything.

"_Stay. Please. Don't leave me. Not now._"

She looked at him kindly with her deep, dark brown eyes and smiled. She sat on the bed, her back rested against the headboard. Luke was unaware of what he was doing. He was out of his mind with everything that has been happening. He sat up, despite her urging for him to rest, and he rested his head on her shoulders. She did not push him away, rather she moved her arm to his shoulder to hold him there and her other arm cradled his head as her hand gently stroked his hair. He buried his head into her shoulder and he cried.

It was very unlike him to cry but he needed to. Calypso did nothing but hold him and sooth him with her touch. She rested her head on his and just held him as he cried and screamed. He needed to let all of his thoughts out. He wanted to get away. Calypso only listened, only led him and only waited. She was patient enough for him to do this. He spent what felt like hours just talking to her. She never let go and he never made an action to move away. She was there and she cared. She gave him all the time and attention that he craved. She was as kind as she was beautiful. She didn't judge him; she didn't flinch away even when he mentioned stories with gore and intimate, extraneous detail. She knew he needed this and so she was there.

He cried himself out eventually and he felt himself fall asleep. He felt better, letting all of his frustrations, troubles and memories away. He felt even better that there was someone who was listening, someone who didn't move away. He didn't know how badly he needed that until he did. He woke up from his dreamless sleep to see that she was still there. She was humming to him, stroking his cheek with her hand. Her cheek rested on his head and he saw that his arms were around her waist, holding her tightly. He had never been so vulnerable in his life. He had never been taken care of, he had never felt cared for. He had always needed his guard up; he had always needed to fend for himself. And here she was, holding him as if he wasn't the worst person in the world, taking care of him as if he were a child, protecting him from himself.

She felt him stir and said, "Are you alright, now?"

"I deserved to be punished," he said, as if that answered her question.

"You have been punished enough."

"I've destroyed so much. I've hated so much. Everything is my fault and what if-"

"We all make bad choices, my Renewed One. Some choices fare better than others. With every choice, there is a 'what if'. What if I never joined my father, Atlas? What if I never off- What if you never ran away from your mother? What if you never met Thalia or Annabeth? What if you had won? All of these 'what ifs' are going to be the end of you. If you're too reminiscent of your past, you are going to be blind to your present. When you are blind to your present, you will lose your future." He felt her kiss him at the top of his head and she moved away. He was silent and unmoving, thinking on her words.

He was on that bed and he was starting to think on all the choices he had made and all he wanted was for Calypso to be there. He wanted her to hold him like she did before. She held him together, whether she knew it or not and he didn't want to fall apart again. He got up and made his way outside the cave to look for her. She was on her way back inside and so they crossed paths. She was still in her dress, her hair was still down and she was still as beautiful as ever. She seemed to glow to him in the light and she was glorious.

He stepped closer and she stood still. Their eyes met and they never looked away from each other. He was so close to her now. He moved closer and closer until their faces were inches, centimetres away. He felt her hitch her breath. His eyes were still on hers as his hand reached up to lift her chin and stroke her cheek. Her eyes closed and his lips were so close to her own.

"Thank you," he murmured as her lips parted and he felt her hot, sweet breath on his lips. Their lips almost met as the splashing of the waves of the nearby sea mixed with the sound of her breathing. Her hands were on her sides while one hand cupped her jaw while the other held the small of her back, pulling her closer. So close, so painfully close…

Until Calypso opened her eyes and turned to the side at the last minute. Luke's lips met her forehead and she turned to look at the sea. Her mouth was agape and Luke couldn't help but look at where she was pertaining to.

"That couldn't be," she whispered, mostly to herself. She gently pulled away from Luke's embrace and walked towards the shore. He could only follow and watch where she was watching. From afar, a small figure could be seen. A raft? A boat? He couldn't really tell.

"Impossible."

But it wasn't.


End file.
